The Best
by Lauand
Summary: Crawford has a vision.


**Title:** The Best

**Author:** Lauand

**Beta:** Bookofnicodemus

**Rating:** R

**A/N:** Thanks again to Books for the awesome beta-fucking. I love you.

* * *

**THE BEST**

The vision struck him at the break of dawn. He put off work and spent the morning planning what to do about it. He still had time.

------

Even if he was more of a wild card, he chose Farfarello as confidant, and at 17:28h, Crawford entered the locked cell that served the Irishman as bedroom and closed the door mindfully afterwards.

"I've had a vision."

Farfarello's yellow eye stared unblinkingly, waiting for the Oracle to elaborate.

"Schuldig turned me in. To Eszett. You were not held responsible for my decisions, so only I was to be… disciplined."

"Do you want me to kill him?"

"No." They both spoke calmly, neutrally; as if they were strangers in an elevator talking about the weather. As if they weren't discussing business. Betrayal and death. "Eszett has already made contact with him… that would only strengthen their misgivings."

Farfarello didn't nod, didn't sigh, didn't acknowledge in any way that he understood. He just asked.

"Why are you telling me, then?"

"In the vision, he kissed me. I thought you would find the reference amusing."

The berserker's whisper was so soft that Crawford could have just imagined it.

"Judas…"

Having finished what he had come here to do, the Oracle walked out of the room and locked it carefully again.

-------

He didn't have to wait long. At 22:07h, Schuldig entered his office. Without knocking. The German was not in a good mood. He wore a frown in his brow and a puzzled expression in his eyes. Schuldig didn't particularly enjoy figuring things out. He was far more content with directly knowing.

"So you know," the German stated.

This unusual straight-forwardness was but a sign of his annoyance. Crawford replied without taking his eyes off his computer, nor giving his voice the slightest expression.

"What do you mean?"

Crawford didn't keep chairs in front of his desk. Schuldig has always suspected that was a well-thought-out decision made with the sole purpose of pissing him off. Not in the mood to put up with being forced to stand while having this conversation, Schuldig boldly crossed the distance to the Oracle's personal space, snapped the laptop closed, ignoring his boss' narrowed, threatening eyes, and sat himself on the desk, in front of the American, feet braced insolently on Crawford's elegant armchair, straddling loosely his thighs.

"You know what I mean. You knew it was my turn to feed Farfarello this evening."

"Did I?"

"Didn't you?"

"Schuldig, remove yourself from my desk and, especially, your feet from my armchair."

"Or what?"

Crawford raised a dark eyebrow at that.

"Or what, what?"

Schuldig snorted.

"You can't kill me. Not now," the smirk on the telepath's lips caused a mix of irritation and nostalgia to the tall American. It was annoying and he would love to wipe it off, but at the same time, it felt like home. "You said it yourself."

The Oracle put his proverbial patience to good use. It was the only way to win with Schuldig. Not reacting.

"I would hate to make myself sound like an old-fashioned villain, but I must remind you that there are worse things than death."

Sculdig's piercing eyes narrowed at that.

"Yeah, I know. I was raised by one, remember? And I have no intention to return to that again just because a fucking precog thinks that he can dominate the world with his utter charm, an angsty teenager and a knife-licking nutcase."

"You forget the tacky, loud redhead."

"No, I forget nothing. I'm out. Maybe my skinny ass is not worth much, but it's the only one I have and I've become fond of it. So fuck you," he said, and just for good measure the German insisted, "my ass and me are out."

He started to climb down the desk, but Crawford suddenly grabbed the waistband of his trousers and pulled hard, so that the telepath ended up kneeling on the chair, straddling Crawford's legs, nearly seated on his lap. As comfortable as he knew the seat was – he had personally checked it – in this particular position it was anything but. And he was too close to the precog for comfort, especially having to brace himself in his firm, unwrinkled shoulders to keep his balance.

"In my vision, you kissed me."

"Yeah, I know." Yep. Too fucking close to the four-eyed bastard. He had been able to feel the voice rumbling in the precog's chest even before he actually heard the words. "I read Farfarello's mind – as you know I would – when he called me 'Judas'."

He tested Crawford's hold on his waist and confirmed that he wouldn't be able to free himself without a great deal of bothersome struggle. And maybe not even then. He hid it behind all those stupid suits and good manners, but the Oracle was strong. Like a cat, he decided to wait for the opportunity to break free, and humour the American in the meanwhile.

"So, what now?" the redhead asked with annoyance.

Was it his imagination or was Crawford an inch closer than before? Not only could the telepath feel that strong chest vibrating with that deep voice, he could feel the warm breath on his lips as the American next spoke.

"Yes, so what now?"

Still no chance to escape. Once again, Schuldig's eyes narrowed when he felt Crawford's hands tightening their hold on his waist.

"What's your game, Crawford?"

"You're the Mastermind, you tell me."

A pause then. Schuldig was really making an effort to sort it out.

"Ok," he said without taking his eyes from the unnervingly calm American. "You set me up. You had a vision and went to Farfarello so that I would come here and have this stupid conversation while I'm posed to give you a lap-dance I'm not even remotely going to give you. Something must have failed in your wonderful plan. A conclusion I should have extracted from Farfie's twisted mind that would have made me repent from my treacherous thoughts and turn back to Schwarz with a loyal heart and a good-doggie attitude that, for some reason, I still seem to lack. Maybe you forgot that I'm the guilty one, and not prone to remorse. Maybe you think I'm still in time to change my mind. Maybe your intention was to confuse me with your half-assed machinations and drive me crazy before my time is due with all this silliness." Crawford tightened his grip a little more, bringing their bodies even closer and Schuldig's eyes went wide as the sudden idea occurred to him. "Or maybe you're planning on fucking me into obedience…"

The German burst out laughing at that. His guffaws weren't beautiful, as laughter was supposed to be, but tacky and noisy, like the person who let them out. Schuldig couldn't believe that was the reason behind the Oracle's scheming, but he still found the notion deathly amusing.

"Oh, my…" the telepath kept on laughing, covering his eyes in an attempt to control himself. Reducing his laughter to mere chuckling, he looked again at his leader and smirked, "I mean, you're a hot guy, really, you are…" This was so surreal... "But not even the best fuck of my life is worth being sent back to Rosenkreuz for some spanking and a brainwash." He was still snickering as he continued, "I knew you had a high concept of yourself, but this is just…"

He was suddenly silenced by Crawford's lips softly pressed against his. More than the kiss itself, it was the strange tenderness in the gesture that stunned him. He had always imagined that Crawford would be the type for fierce kisses and wrestling of lips and tongues for domination. But his mouth nearly wasn't there. And it was that, more than anything, that prevented the redhead from drawing back. Curiosity would be his downfall, he knew.

The close-mouthed kiss evolved to a gentle nibbling and grazing of lips, and the occassional flick of a cautious tongue.

Schuldig accomodated the slow pace and shifted a little to get a bit more comfortable on top of Crawford's thighs. It seemed only appropriate that his hands glide from the shoulders to the back of the American's nape, and that his fingers got slowly tanlged in the soft, dark tresses. Crawford interpreted that as permission and let his hands roam. The right upwards, slowly caressing the German's back; the left downwards, firmly cupping his ass.

It was the opportunity Schuldig had been waiting for, to jump up and break free, but for some reason, he parted his lips instead. The graze of tongues became a bit more frequent, but the kiss remained langurous, slow. When the telepath grew tired of Crawford's glasses getting in the way, he just let his fingers remove them and swallowed the American's protest when they heard them hit the floor. The kiss grew heated and the redhead chased the Oracle's elusive tongue to get his softly sucked in reward.

Without his conscious permission, the German's hips thought it was a good moment to grind themselves against Crawford's and the American's apparently agreed.

God, but the armchair was really uncomfortable.

They kissed for ages, tongues tangling and caressing, lips moving, nibbling, mouths searching for the best angle, Schuldig's hands losing themselves in dark hair or clumsily stroking a closed-eyed face, Crawford's patiently finding a way under Schuldig's shirt to touch skin, to feel first handed pale flesh and rough scars, while its partner groped and kneaded that perfect, perfect backside, aiding with the regular rhythym it followed to grind their groins together.

With a great deal of willpower that he usually wouldn't display, Schuldig pulled away from the kiss and panted against Crawford's cheek.

"Ok, fucker… so you're a goddamned good kisser, so what…" His hips still showed a mind of their own and kept on rubbing their crotches together. "I'm still intending to report you, you know…" He gyrated his hips once more and closed his eyes at the utter perfection that Crawford's body underneath his represented.

"Maybe I do know." The Oracle's words and his long fingers brushing one of his many stray locks away made him open his eyes again. After tucking the tresses uselessly behind a pale ear, he let his fingers roam gently down an equally pale cheek. "Maybe, just like you think your treason is worth thirty pieces of silver, I believe that your kiss is worth the betrayal."

Schuldig could have sworn just a minute ago that nothing in this world would make his hips stop their grinding. He was wrong. Crawford's words did the trick. So he just sat there, perched on Crawford's lap, lips swollen and wet, clothes disheveled and wide-eyed gaze locked with a miopic one.

When his reaction finally came, it was almost violent in its intensity. Schuldig pushed the other man roughly away and with narrowed eyes, he got up from the chair and spat with fury and contempt:

"Fuck you, Crawford!"

Stalking his way to the door, he was aware even through his anger, that this time the precog made no effort to deter him. Opening the damned door with more force than was necessary, the German turned back briefly before repeating:

"Fuck you!"

Then, he exited slamming the door closed after him.

Well, it was done. The only thing left now was waiting. Lowering his short-sighted gaze to the nearly painful erection in his expensive slacks, Crawford hoped that the outcome would be worth the blue balls.

------

It was his seventh cigarrette. Schuldig was not a heavy smoker. He didn't even enjoy the habit itself. But it annoyed Crawford, so he sometimes did it. It was a damned good excuse to approach strangers, too, asking for a light and such. Tonight, it just seemned right. People used to smoke to calm frayed nerves. It still did nothing to sooth Schuldig's, but that didn't mean he couldn't keep on trying.

Now that he was not so disturbed, he realized that Crawford had been bullshitting him. As always. The American could and would kill him without blinking an eye and Eszett be damned. Maybe he would attract some undesired attention upon himself and his team, but a strengthened suspicion for a dead member was still better than a charge of treason by an alive witness. If he hadn't been so startled by the info he had obtained from Farfarello's twisted mind, he would have realized much sooner. Crawford was making excuses not to kill him, giving Schuldig the green light to betray him, but why? The Oracle rarely gave in and never, ever gave up. He was not the type to wait sitting on his ass for Eszett to give the order to terminate him. And there was the kiss… kisses, to be exact. And caressing, and grinding, and groping, and…. Well, anything short of fucking, really. But as Schuldig had already stated, not even the best lay was worth a bullet in the head. So, what the hell was Crawford thinking?

Not for the first time, Schuldig cursed the damned shields of his boss' strong mind.

--------

At 2:30h, Crawford entered Schuldig's bedroom after a brief knocking. He needn't, not really, since the telepath could feel the blankness of his mind nearing as if it were a beacon. Crawford knew it, but he always chose to keep to form. Schuldig guessed that he was born in a fucking suit, the damned bastard.

He was out of cigarrettes by the time the Oracle passed by, but he was still up, looking through the window into the cold night of Tokyo, the lights off to avoid the reflection on the glass. The room still smelled like tobacco, but the leader of Schwarz declined to comment about it and asked instead:

"Do you trust your gift, Schuldig?"

"For fuck's sake," the redhead's voice was something between resigned and exasperated, "don't you think I've had enough mindfucking to last me at least three lifetimes?" Crawford couldn't help a smile at the telepath's accustomed exaggeration. "Speak up _clear_ for once!"

Crawford walked nearer and stopped two steps away from the sitting German. Both of them kept their gazes fixed on the view the gigantic city had to offer when the Oracle started talking again.

"We are not normal people, Schuldig. We were born with a power that separates us from the rest, that will aid us to survive and at the same time will be the reason our lives are in constant risk. We are always alone, Schuldig. Most of the time, the only person we can put our trust in, is ourselves. Do you trust yourself? Or more exactly, do you have faith in yourself?"

The Mastermind sighed.

"Will you get to the fucking point now, Crawford?"

The Oracle smirked. Impatient as ever, his telepath. He knew how it irked the redhead, his inability to read his leader's mind. Maybe that was why the tall American often chose to be especially obtuse in his explanations.

"I've seen the future. Our future. We will make it, period. But you need to trust me, as I trust my gift… as I trust you." Crawford didn't avert his face from the window, nor did he hesitate the slightest in his words. "We are not normal people, Schuldig… we are better."

"Oh," the German's voice dripped sarcasm as he turned his look to his leader, "and how is it better that my life span is - if I'm really lucky - half the one of those inferior, normal beings, O divine Oracle?"

Steady as always, Crawford delivered his reply.

"What would you rather have, Schuldig, three hours of a boring, dull documentary or half an hour of hardcore porn?"

"…"

There was a long silence, after that.

"Are you saying we're porn stars?"

"What I'm saying," and that was the moment his leader finally confronted the redhead's gaze. Even in the dark, their eyes met and got locked together, "is that we lead an intense life. Maybe we are fated to burn it faster than the rest of the world, but I wouldn't change it for anyone's, least of all one of those pathetic normal beings, that waste their existence working, eating, sleeping and watching TV in a constant cycle. And I'm not planning on giving it away serving as a stupid dog, either. We're destined to do great things, Schuldig, but only if we dare to grab the opportunity and break free. I won't be happy as a slave. Neither will you."

"I won't be happy dead, Crawford."

Schuldig was stubborn, the American acknowledged that. And he clung to life as the survivor he was. But he had a wild streak and Crawford knew how to exploit it.

"Maybe you'll be happier dying on your terms than living on theirs."

And with that, he turned and calmly walked out of the room.

-----

Of course, Crawford was still awake when Schuldig slipped without asking for permission into the American's bed. Schuldig would have bet his dick the bastard was waiting for him, even at 4:16 in the fucking morning.

"Is this supposed to be making up or goodbye sex?" Crawford midly inquired.

"You tell me," came the annoyed answer, "you're the almighty Oracle."

"But not the telepath here."

"Can't you see everything?"

"Stop playing games," at the subtle change in Crawford's tone – Schuldig was an expert at reading the numerous nuances in his leader's speech, even as he was adept at ignoring them – the redhead stilled, more resigned than wary, "I want you to say it aloud."

It was dark, but the waning light that came from the window was enough to allow a staring contest. As expected, the Oracle won.

"A promise said aloud is as breakable as a tacit one," the German reminded him.

"Schuldig, for once, just humour me."

"Without complaints?" The smirk was perfectly audible in the telepath's voice. "I thought you didn't want a slave…"

"I don't want _to be_ a slave, I never said anything against owning one."

"Oh, so you have a sense of humour? Since when?"

"Schuldig…"

The redhead sighed in defeat and gave in.

"Ok, ok… I'm in, alright? Myself and my ass are in. Can we fuck now?"

As his response, Crawford kissed him.

"I'll take that as a 'yes'."

------

Much later, nearly at dawn, almost 24 hours after everything had begun, they lay side by side on Crawford's wide bed, looking at the ceiling, catching their breath. When Schuldig trusted his voice again, he asked.

"I don't understand the twisted way you always choose to do things. Couldn't you have just given me the 'better to die standing than to live kneeling' speech from the start?" He propped himself on his elbow to be better able to look at the precog in the dark. "Why mixing Farfarello in and messing so much with everybody's heads?"

"Schuldig, question me if you like, but please, realize that I always have a reason to act as I do, and I'm indefectibly right in the end." Somehow, the Oracle managed to sound proper and come up with words only a select number of people knew existed, even after mind-blowing sex. Schuldig suspected he made up at least half of them. "I'm not only better; I'm the best."

The telepath's loud guffaws resounded in the dark room. He so knew that Crawford was deadly serious…

"You're an arrogant prick, did you know that?" the German chuckled, "maybe it's really worth it to die for you."

That was it. Those were the very words Crawford had orchestrated this whole circus for. And he would mess with the heads that was needed only to hear them again. Slowly, much more tenderly than anybody would have thought the American capable of, the precog cupped Schuldig's face and caressed the lips with his thumb. Before the German could ask what the fuck that was all about, Crawford kissed him. Just like in the office, barely a pressing of lips, a mingling of breaths, gently nibbling, nuzzling, nipping, sucking, soflty coaxing Schuldig's mouth open to timidly taste him with his tongue.

When they finally pulled apart, Schuldig asked.

"Why do you kiss like that?"

"Like that, how?"

There was a brief pause after the American's comeback. The redhead felt terribly stupid speaking this aloud, but he wanted to know. He hoped he didn't sound as retarded as he thought he did.

"As if you care."

The four-eyed bastard's first reaction was to smirk. Schuldig cursed him seven ways to Hell for that.

"Because I know that's what will keep you by my side."

As with most things the American said, Schuldig didn't know if the reply satisfied him or if he should feel offended. He decided to reflect about it later; another point called more insistently for his attention.

"Are we talking about forever, here?"

The leader of Schwarz was not exactly able to hesitate, but as accustomed, he seemed to choose carefully his words.

"As we already discussed, our 'forever' might be a little shorter than expected, given the circumstances…" Crawford shrugged and lay down again, gazing at the ceiling. "In any case, it wouldn't be so terrible to have you around for a certain period of time… you're not that bad a lay."

"Oh, really." Now Schuldig _knew_ he had to feel offended. "just so you know, and paraphrasing a great genius of our time, 'I'm not only better, I'm the best'!"

The German couldn't help the rush of triumph that ran through his body when he saw Crawford smile at that.

"Yes, we are." The American agreed.

"What, the best?"

"Yes, the best."

"Sounds good…" Schuldig grinned, "Let's fuck again to celebrate."

------

END


End file.
